


Atlanta Music Guys

by ItsQueenSara



Category: Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Abuse, M/M, References to Depression, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17895698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsQueenSara/pseuds/ItsQueenSara
Summary: Simon is the world famous lead singer of "Atlanta Music Guys". He seems to have everything. Fame, Money, a perfect life. But when he leaves the stage all his deamons creep up...That is until he meets the lovely memeber of staff Bram.Maybe life is not too bad after all?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Contains mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, alcohol and drug abuse.  
> Please, take care of yourself. You are worth so much ❤️

The cheering crow makes me feel like flying. There are no problems, no fears and no insecurities. There is just me and the crowd and the boys. I can feel Garrett's drumbeat shaking my whole body. Alex's bass is sending shivers down my spine and Nick's electric guitar gives me goosebumps. Electricity is heading through my whole body. Nothing in the world can stop me. Nothing in the world can hurt me. I am finally free.   
I'll never get used to the overwhelming feeling of performing on stage. I could not go wrong. Never.  
» Thank you, London! « and with that we leave the stage and everything comes flooding back in. My insecurities. The pain. The memories. So instead of facing them I do what usually works best for me and chug the first shot for today and believe me when I say that it won't be the last. It'll never the last.


	2. Chapter 2

My hands fly over the piano while I am desperately trying to find a tune that matches the lyrics. Somehow I can't seem to feel it that evening. The huge villa feels as lonely as it always does, leaving so much room for the dark thoughts to circle trough my head. Every time I attempt to concentrate on the song they sneak their way back in.

You'll never be enough. Your parents hate you, you little nasty bastard. When people find out about your real self, when they look behind you masquerade of the extroverted rock star, they'll hate what you are. They'll stop listening to your music. You and your friends will go down. They'll blame you and hate you as well. Everyone will hate you. You'll be lonelier than ever!

I am attempting an other melody, but nothing seems to get better. Truth to be spoken, everything always gets worse. I can't even concentrate on one fucking thing I am supposed to do and that really frustrates me and that voice in my head telling me that I am just a stupid looser is getting louder and louder. There is only one thing that can shut it off for at least a little while, so I stand up and head downstairs to the huge fridge in the kitchen that is filled with food and even more alcohol by members of my staff and grab a beer.   
The liquid runs down my throat and almost immediately soothes my nerves. I quickly empty the bottle and a second one and a third and sometime around 11 o'clock I stop counting. 

***  
I wake up in my room. Someone must have carried me here, probably a member of my staff, because the last thing I remember is passing out in the kitchen. There is a glass of water and some painkillers on my nightstand. I chug both and immediately frown. It's been a while since I drank something as harmless as water. I turn around again and drift off into sleep only to be greeted by a terrible nightmare. 

The second time I wake up, the terrors of the night still haunting me. But it is not only them. There is a melody swirling through my head I don't seem to be able to shake off.   
It's almost as good as the rush I feel during performing or with the help of alcohol, when I sit in front of the piano and the tune fits the lyrics perfectly. I finish the whole song in what seems to be just a second, but when I look at my watch almost two hours have passed. I make a mental note to present my composition to the band that afternoon, when I shy knock interrupts my train of thought. » I am sorry, I just wanted to check in on you. Last time I came by your room, you were screaming. That song sounds beautiful, by the way. « 

I just sit still, surprised by the unexpected visitor. He is fairly lean from what I can see in his staff uniform, but his facial features are soft and there is no beard to hide that fact. But the thing that keeps me fascinated most about him, are his lovingly kind chocolate brown eyes. You wouldn't ever think, that they are able to hold any hatred at all. They are the opposite of mine, actually. Still so innocent and clear and shiny and so unbelievably beautiful. 

» Is everything okay with you? I wanted to check in on you earlier, but it seemed rude to just step into your private room. «   
» Oh, believe me, when you live in a house as huge as this nothing appears to be private anymore.« My voice is deep and a bit slurred and it contains just the right amount of relaxed attitude that it sounds sexy. Just how my fans know and love me, I think to myself, just how almost everybody knows me. But then just after the handsome young man nods shortly, obviously surprised by my answer, and turns to leave, another thought comes to me.» What's your name? «  
»Bram, sir. My name is Bram.« He tilts his head in that cute shy way as if he can't quite belive that I actually spoke to him. And I should definitely stop thinking about him that way.   
» Well, see you later Mr Spier. And, by the way, I know how it feels to be haunted by nightmares. Aks for me, when you need help. « Bram spins on his heel and walks out of the door.


	3. Chapter 3

His soft pink lips are sofly grazing above mine and his hands are around my waist trying to get me as close as humanely possible, while my hands are woven through his strong brown hair. Shivers are making their way up and down my body while I drown into Bram. Oh, my Bram.

I wake up with a startle. The dream felt so real that it still lingers in the back of my head, as I realize that this is the first night I haven't had a nightmare in a while. That is something new, I think to myself.

The sun is already high on the sky and the light is glowing in little streams through my window onto my bed and the black piano that is positioned right next to it. I usually don't notice these little details anymore and when I do it doesn't seem to really touch me, because I'm usually too drunk or hungover to actually care, but I haven't had a drink since yesterday. I haven´t had a drink since I met Bram. It may sound weird, but I am afraid I might forget him and his features when I do. Alcohol is usually my way to forget everything. The pressure, the worries, the terrible thoughts. But since yesterday there is a thing, or better to say someone, I don't want to forget. Someone I want to remember. 

He was so kind yesterday. And the cute shyness he tried to hide, but ridiculously failed. Not many people treat me, like he did yesterday. Most just want a photo or an autograph or tell me how much they love me or whatever. Other approache me me, just the get a pice of my fame. Just to adorn themselves with my fame. Some look at me with disgust, judging me for my lifestyle and my extroverted ego. And honestly I can't blame them. My real self hates this art figure as well. That is not me, even though almost everyone else seems to belive so. 

But Bram was different. He is that kind of guy that wants to see the good in everyone, even in my fucked up self. 

***

The last note plays on the piano. I just finished writing the last bit of my new song. Bram still won't get out of my head and sometime around mid day I decided to write a song for him, which didn't really help my situation. As much as I want to tell myself otherwise, it won't do me good being a lovesick puppy on stage tomorrow. Out of nowhere there is hot anger rising up inside of me. Anger about Bram. Anger about me. Anger about the whole world. I just can't take it anymore, I think to myself. Everything is getting too much. Too many expectations. Too much pressure.

My feet are moving without thinking and I do the only reasonable thing to do and find myself in the kitchen, where my fingers grip the handle of the fridge, opening it almost mechanically and I take a beer. And another. And another. Just as I am about to have another one, a voice is coming from behind me: » I don't want to offend you, sir, but getting drunk won't help you or your problems. « 

Already pretty drunk I turn around, only to look into beautiful kind brown eyes. Bram! » Oh, what the hell do you know about my problems. You have your perfect little world where everybody loves you and adores you, because you are freaking perfect. What do I have? People only want to be around me for my money or fame. So screw you and your fucking advices!«  
Bram's expression turns from sympathy to being hurt. » It's not always, like it seems.« and when he turns to leave I can see it. There is a bruise forming on his jaw and my anger washes away. I am suddenly awake again.»What happened to your jaw?« there is only sympathy in my voice. 

A questioning expression washes over Bram's face, but it was quickly replaced by a self conscious look.» Nothing. «, but the pure disbelief was written all over my face, so he adds quietly, while acting as if the floor is the most interesting thing he's ever seen, » My dad. He hit me.« 

How could anyone hit their own son, let alone this wonderful human being. » Why? « I step closer, gently taking his face into my hands and turning it, so I can see the yellowish-blue spot on his jawbone. I stroke it sofly as electricity is running trough my fingertips. Bram slowly rises his head,» He hit me and kicked me out because... because, I'm in love with a man.«


End file.
